


I Was Yours Already

by aldiara



Category: The Demon's Lexicon - Sarah Rees Brennan
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bring Back The Porn Challenge, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 11:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20487797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldiara/pseuds/aldiara
Summary: Seb’s having trouble using his words, as usual. Good thing Jamie’s open to non-verbal communication.





	I Was Yours Already

**Author's Note:**

> I started this literal years ago, so there may be some fuzziness on actual canon. Unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine (but do feel free to point them out).

***

After the Market has started to settle and the revellers have drifted away, Seb walks Jamie back to the wagon that is his temporary residence, despite Jamie’s protests that he doesn’t need an escort. He’s probably right, at that; if anyone or anything were insane enough to attack the Goblin Market at the full height of its new strength, Jamie has more magic at his command than Seb could ever dream of. 

But by then the others have sheared off, neatly paired in couples, including Mae and Nick (ugh, Nick), and Seb doesn’t want Jamie to be alone yet, not when they’ve all been glued to his side for days, taking turns at comfort.

Also, he’s not quite ready for the evening to be over.

They amble along, and Seb is glad that Jamie’s doing most of the talking: about the ways the Market will probably change, about Matthias, about Mae and Nick (ugh, Nick). The lights have dimmed, only a few of them still glowing in the trees. The night air is warm and dark, with an occasional burst of far-off laughter or drunken song drifting to them on the faint breeze. Seb is aware of Jamie’s presence at his side in an excruciatingly physical way that makes him keep his fists clenched in his pockets to rein in the urge to reach out.

Eventually even Jamie runs out of idle chatter. “So… this was nice.” He says it lightly, but with an odd uplift at the end, making it almost a question. 

Seb nods at the night-dark ground. “Yeah.”

“We should do it again. Well, maybe in a more mundane setting. Try something really out there like… coffee? Or brunch. Pretend we didn’t already do the whole big magical showdown with dramatic life-saving, that’s just so cliché.”

He’s grinning at Seb, shiny-eyed, and Seb somehow manages to squeeze out a “Yeah, let’s.”

Jamie doesn’t seem bothered by his monosyllabic idiocy. He slows his steps as the wagon comes in sight; pauses in the shadow of a tree and turns to face Seb. He hesitates. His eyes are intent on Seb’s as if he’s waiting for him to say something.

Seb clears his throat, which is burning with unspoken things. “Well… good night, then.”

But Jamie lingers, damn him; head cocked slightly, he peers up at Seb through his pale fall of hair, and then leans in, quick and light, as if Seb wouldn’t notice if he just did it sneakily enough, and kisses him.

It’s different from earlier: that one was in public and just a quick chaste brush of lips, and never mind that Seb hasn’t been able to get it out of his fucking mind all evening. 

This one… lingers. Jamie’s lips are soft and warm against his, just barely open, breathing softly, as if he’s exhaling a question into Seb’s mouth. Seb is so tense he can’t do anything but stand there frozen, hands still jammed deep into his pockets, and he _thinks_ he’s stopped breathing but he can’t be sure, because all the times he’s imagined this – that is, when he was pathetic or desperate enough to picture Jamie Crawford kissing him – he’s never bothered to cover something as banal as air supply.

He’s pictured this many ways, but it was always shaded in recriminations and bitterness, based on what a waste of space he is and just how much he’s utterly wrecked any chance between them. He’s pictured Jamie, drunk with magic, eyes silver and cold and his mouth full of that cynical grin that isn’t him, leaning over Seb and commanding him to do things in a soft, lethal voice; he’s imagined that quirky wry mouth rippling with contempt and nipping fiercely at his neck, with sharp teeth and brutal force. He’s seen himself laid out at Jamie’s mercy, seen him laugh and mock, with Gerald at his shoulder, egging him on. He’s even, in his darker dreams, seen it the other way around: himself finally swelled with the power his mentors said he’d never have, and Jamie in shackles before him in some dank dungeon, his chin trembling under Seb’s fingers when he grasps it to force his lips upon him. 

You know, basic sexy dark magician stuff, all _très Interview with the Vampire._

He’s never pictured _this_, not in his most daring moments: a dark summer night, the smell of roasted almonds and the feel of Jamie’s mouth on his, soft but determined and entirely conscious of what he’s doing. He’s never pictured it sweet, or slow, or simple.

Jamie’s determination lasts only for a moment longer, though: then, faced with Seb’s utter lack of response, Jamie pulls back, cheeks flushing in the lantern light. 

“Right!” he says brightly. “That was – well, never mind. I’m sorry. I have terrible, terrible situation-reading skills. Ask Mae, she’ll give you the details. The lengthy, awful details. I think she might have a power point-“

Seb cuts him off, yanking his hands from the pockets of his jacket in one desperate movement and cupping them around Jamie’s face, pulling him close and covering his babbling mouth with his, because fuck if he’s worth it or not, Jamie kissed him, _Jamie_ kissed _him_ and he just stood there like an utter lummox, when if there’s anything he knows at all it’s that Jamie deserves to be kissed properly.

So he does. Sometimes he feels like he’s spent half his life trying to come up with ways to let Jamie Crawford know how he really feels; trying and discarding one pathetic grand declaration or sneaky hint after the other. He’s spent years secretly sketching the lines of this body, this face, wasted sheaves of paper not quite getting the crook of his lop-sided smile right. He’s filled the world in charcoal, nothing but negative space around the slight hunch of Jamie’s shoulders, and if he knew it was dangerous to think like that – no, worse than dangerous, pitiful – it still wasn’t like he could have changed it, or would have if given the chance. 

He didn’t think it would be this easy, in the end: that his mouth might get the message across without words, his fingers without a pencil. He didn’t think that he could trace Jamie’s cheekbones with his thumbs, plead with his desperate mouth open against Jamie’s soft lips, his curled tongue offering all he has to give, and be understood. 

His momentum has sent Jamie stumbling back and Seb follows without thinking, bearing them back against the tree with a little too much force. Jamie makes a little oo_f_ sound when his shoulders hit the bark and Seb freezes, alarmed and a little dizzy.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Jamie sounds breathless. Some of the fairy lights still shimmer in the branches above, and in their waning glow Jamie looks up at Seb, eyes wide and dark, his parted lips a blatant invitation. 

Seb stares at him, profoundly helpless. It’s as if after years of keeping this feeling in a tight dark ball inside him, badly controlled like too-potent magic, he’s finally let go of his attempts to curb it and now can do nothing while it stretches and unfurls, spreading through his bloodstream, consuming him entirely. His body is pressed up close against Jamie’s, trapping Jamie against the tree, but Seb is the one who stands frozen, unable to think or move.

Jamie has one arm curled around Seb’s waist – the left; Seb can feel where his wrist ends in abrupt nothing, the stump resting against the small of Seb’s back. His other hand drifts up, gently brushing back Seb’s hair. Seb holds still as Jamie’s fingers trail down his temple, his cheek. He barely dares to breathe. He’s hard, and knows that Jamie must know it, too, must be able to feel it; but he can’t bring himself to move away. His whole body thrills to the touch of Jamie’s fingers on his skin, a barely-there caress.

Then Jamie’s hand curves warmly around his jaw, his thumb brushing Seb’s lower lip. The moan that escapes him is entirely involuntary. But he sees Jamie’s pupils widen in response, feels the twitch of an answering hardness against his own.

“Come here,” Jamie says, in a new tone, low and almost rough. His fingers slide around Seb’s nape and pull him down, and Seb comes willingly, his mouth meeting Jamie’s, his lips falling open. 

Less sweet this time, and definitely no longer slow. Jamie’s fingers have tangled in his hair. Jamie’s mouth is open, slick and demanding, and Seb kisses him and kisses him, opening up to let everything he feels go into the kiss, all the secret need he’s stashed away and starved for years into hollow bones of longing.

He crowds Jamie against the tree, trying to get as close as possible. Jamie gives as good as he gets, tugging at Seb’s hair and pushing his hips forward, and fuck, he’s definitely hard. Seb pushes into it, sliding a knee between Jamie’s thighs. He hardly knows what he’s doing, only knows that he needs to be closer, even closer. They are still kissing, Jamie’s tongue in his mouth like he’s trying to devour him. Seb slides his knee up against the bulge in Jamie’s jeans. Jamie moans at the contact and bucks up, the movement sending a raw jolt of need through Seb’s groin. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life. 

Jamie’s arm has tightened on his waist. Without warning, he hitches up a knee and hooks it neatly around Seb’s hip, using the leverage to pull him in tight. Gasping, Seb sways against him, into the space he’s opened up. He feels light-headed, as if he’s using too much magic. Maybe he is. When he wraps a hand around Jamie’s knee and coaxes it higher on his hip, securing him there, Jamie doesn’t protest. The movement brings them into near-perfect alignment, and Seb has to tear his mouth away at last to snatch a breath and groan, deep in his throat. 

Jamie drags his lips from Seb’s mouth to his jaw, his throat, peppering his heated skin in hectic kisses. “Seb,” he whispers; it comes out a little unsteady and Seb feels pathetically grateful that he’s not the only one who’s hot and woozy-headed, his skin feeling too tight on his flesh. “Seb. Fucking hell.” It comes out on a huff of laughter, which should perhaps feel insulting. Instead, Seb feels almost grounded, his breathing easing a little. The laugh is incredulous and pleased, and sounds almost as shaky as Seb feels.

“I’m… god, okay, this is ridiculous,” Jamie declares. “Let me just – here.” His hand comes down between them and Seb takes a deep breath, willing his legs to bear him up so he can step back of his own accord and Jamie won’t actually have to push him.

Except Jamie isn’t pushing him. Jamie’s fingers are at his fly, impatiently tearing at the button, a little clumsy one-handed. For a moment, Seb’s mind blanks completely; by the time he catches up, Jamie has succeeded in undoing his jeans and is pushing impatiently at his briefs. When Jamie’s fingers close on him, eager and hesitant all at once, Seb absolutely cannot help the noise that comes out of him, something desperate and rough and far too loud. 

Jamie’s eyes flicker up to meet his. His fingers still against Seb’s cock, which pulses hotly in his hand. “Is this…. is this okay?” he asks, sounding suddenly uncertain.

Seb can’t bear that, but he can’t quite speak either. Instead, he jerks his head in a nod and brings his mouth back down over Jamie’s, pressing quick, harsh kisses against his lips, trying to make them say _yes_ when he can’t form words. 

Jamie is touching him. _Jamie_ is _touching_ him. His fingers slide up and down, exploring the shape of him, already slick because Seb is so hard he’s leaking and feels about two seconds away from coming, just from this. He pulls back a second, bites his lip, squeezes shut his eyes. His hands drop to Jamie’s trousers, as if they’re three steps ahead of him. The soft denim falls open under his trembling fingers. Jamie makes a whimpering noise and moves against Seb’s bracing thigh, the rucking motion trapping his cock in his underwear. When Seb pulls it free, Jamie exhales sharply and drops back his head. Seb leans forward, drawn by the long column of his neck, and kisses him there, feeling the shuddering jump of his pulse. The motion has brought their hips together and suddenly their fingers meet, their cocks brushing together. Seb thinks he might just pass out from the velvety heat of Jamie’s hardness against his own.

Jamie says his name, no, almost snarls it, and fumbles first Seb’s hand around both of them, then his own, his fingers tangling with Seb’s, finding purchase. Seb moans in response, shoves his hips forward without thinking. For a few moments they sort of thrust at each other gracelessly, all out of synch and still it’s the best thing Seb’s ever felt. He keeps having to remind himself to breathe. 

Jamie is moving urgently against him, his legs open as wide as he can get them with his jeans still bunched around his thighs. His skin is feverishly hot and he keeps gasping, just one-syllable words, _Seb_, and _yes_, and _fuck._ That last one does things to Seb’s insides, because at the soft rasp of it he can’t help picturing it: himself between Jamie’s legs, but with no clothes between them, Jamie spreading his thighs and pulling him inside.

He has one hand braced against the rough bark next to Jamie’s head, the other one laced with Jamie’s fingers around both their cocks. He’s driving hard against Jamie, his hips moving almost without his own volition, and Jamie – god, Jamie is pulling at him with that leg hooked around his hip, and he’s using the leverage to… well, to _hump_ against him, there really is no other word for it. His eyes have dropped half-shut. In the fading fairy glow, his lashes cast long shadows over his cheeks and his mouth is a soft, half-open curve and Seb wants him so much it fucking hurts. 

“Jamie,” he whispers, tightening and speeding the movement of their fingers and rutting hard against Jamie’s cock, into the space between his open thighs. “Jamie. Do it. I wanna see it.”

Jamie opens his eyes at that and stares up at him as they move together. They’ve got their rhythm now, their hips thrusting together in perfect accord. Their cocks are slick and heavy between their tangled fingers and Seb can feel the orgasm building inside him, a deep, throbbing ache moving up from his balls.

“Jamie,” he says again, breathless and needy; the sound of Jamie’s name has crowded all other words from his mind. Jamie makes a small, desperate noise and suddenly goes taut against him; his eyes squeeze shut as a full-body shudder tears through him and then he’s crying out, just once, a low, hoarse cry that Seb knows will ring in his ears for fucking ever. His head falls forward and his lips latch onto the side of Seb’s neck, sucking hard as wet heat spills against Seb’s hand and twitching cock. 

It doesn’t take him three seconds after that. He thrusts against Jamie’s straining body twice more and comes with Jamie still pulsing against him, with Jamie’s hand fisting him and Jamie’s mouth bruisingly hard on his neck, probably marking him for all the world to see, and just the idea of that makes Seb come even harder. His mind blanks over with the force of his climax, one pulsing wave following another. He’s still spurting as he topples forward, barely managing to brace some of his weight as he pins Jamie to the tree.

Jamie’s free arm is as tight as a steel band around him. For several long moments they just lean there, gasping in the same air. Seb’s eyes are closed and his ears are buzzing with white noise. It takes a while before the mundane details drift back up to the surface of his awareness: rough bark under his hand, Jamie’s hair plastered sweatily against his cheek, Jamie’s open mouth against his bruised neck, slick come dripping between their still-joined hands. _Both of ours_, Seb thinks, and the thought sends a lazy after-thrill through his spent flesh.

Jamie is very still against him. Seb wonders hazily if now is the time to resume overthinking.

But then Jamie lifts his head from Seb’s neck, and he’s laughing –_actually laughing_, and somehow manages to make it sound like this is okay, like Seb doesn’t immediately need to go and drown himself in the nearest duck pond.

“We’re outside,” Jamie states, his voice shaking with suppressed laughter. He gestures erratically towards the tree, the widely spaced wagons, the open night sky. “We’re, like, _in public._”

Seb doesn’t know whether to laugh as well or defend this clearly excellent location. He settles for a grin and a cautious, “Well, yeah, but there’s no one else around.” 

“No, but, holy crap, for a first time, this is a lot more, uhm, adventurous than I expected.”

Seb nods, not sure what to say. _Me too_ seems inadequate; asking about first times seems presumptuous. Underneath the niggling, unwanted jealousy of what other first times Jamie might be referring to, there is a silly, warm glow spreading through him: they have a first time now. Nothing can undo that.

Still cackling, Jamie starts tugging up his trousers, tucking himself away. Seb quickly follows suit. He wonders for an agonising moment whether he should offer help when Jamie struggles with his zipper, but before he can make up his mind, Jamie manages by himself.

He clears his throat and peers at Seb, eyes sparkling.

“So. I wouldn’t want you to think like I regularly do this on the first date, because I really, really don’t – no, seriously, it’s pathetic how very much I don’t, but” – he takes a deep breath and jerks his head just slightly towards the painted wagon perched on the slight hill behind them – “do you want to come in?”

It’s as if all of Seb’s nerve endings short-circuit immediately. He doesn’t quite remember how breathing works, and he definitely, _definitely_ doesn’t know how it is that his cock, so recently spent, can actually manage to twitch in such desperate, shameless interest.

“Uhm,” he manages. “I… probably… shouldn’t, for some excellent reason.”

Jamie doesn’t laugh this time, although his mouth twists wryly. “Probably,” he agrees, but his hand on Seb’s wrist is firm and deliberate, fingers circling the thin bones there with just the slightest tempting pull. “So… do you want to?” he asks again, and there’s something so raw and brave about his voice that Seb can only nod numbly and drag him close into another kiss.

“Yes,” he says into Jamie’s mouth, “yeah. Fuck yes. Please.”

He feels the shape of Jamie’s mouth altering beneath his as he smiles into the kiss, and when Jamie’s grip tightens on his arm, tugging him along, he follows.


End file.
